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by Donda



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Animal Shelter, Dog!Max, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:01:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23280637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Donda/pseuds/Donda
Summary: Max IS the dog.
Relationships: Furiosa & Max Rockatansky
Comments: 6
Kudos: 29





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**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure if this is worth anything, but my friend put the premise in my head and I actually WROTE SOMETHING so here it is
> 
> And for those of you who might be curious, Max is a red and tan Australian Kelpie

Max sighs, lays his head down on his paws, and lifts his brows to stare up at the door to his kennel.

People come and go. He likes the ones that belong here, the ones he sees every day who come and bring him food. Sometimes they give him toys, and take some time to give him some attention and pets. But they’re not _his_ people, and he can tell they don’t plan to be.

Then there’s the ones who he only ever sees once. They walk by, looking in every kennel, sometimes passing him by, sometimes coming in to visit him, offering their hands for him to sniff, or going straight for the petting. Max isn’t so fond of the grabby ones. He doesn’t trust someone who doesn’t let him feel them out first.

He’ll wag his tail hopefully for the ones who go slowly, take the time to meet him, but most seem to declare him not friendly enough, and move on. They’re not his people anyway.

He doesn’t know why his people brought him here and left him alone. They were sad, he could tell that, and the car ride here wasn’t as fun as car rides usually were. He could tell there was something wrong. But the _why_ still escapes him.

Regardless, he hasn’t seen them in at least a few weeks, and at this point has finally given up that he ever will. He guesses this is his place now. It’s not terrible, but he still doesn’t like it.

They let him out to run and play once a day. That’s nice at least. They have a huge yard, and he can tear around and use up all that energy from being pent up. Sometimes one of the ones who belongs here even throws a tennis ball for him.

Today Max watches people come and go as usual. Nobody has come in to meet him today, and really, that’s fine by him. He doesn’t see the point anyway.

He listens to them talk as they pass by in the hallway outside his kennel. He has picked up his fair share of human words, but most of them are still lost on him. They have a lot of them, apparently, and most, he’s pretty sure, aren’t really relevant enough to him to be worth trying to learn. He knows what he needs to.

“Nothing too huge,” someone is saying as one of the ones who belongs here leads her down the row of kennels. “I’d like to be able to at least pick it up and carry it if I need to.”

Max looks around, bored, then picks up the rubber toy laying in the corner. He had already gotten the treat out of it hours ago, but he throws it against the floor a couple times anyway. It bounces pretty nicely.

He hears them stop several kennels down.

“Hm, no, I’m not really one for lap dogs.”

“A working dog, maybe?” Max recognizes that voice. She brought him his breakfast this morning. “How about this one?”

“What’s his story?”

Max can almost see them, standing at a kennel across the way. The dog they’re looking at had turned up here several days ago. He likes to yell a lot. Max can’t really blame him. Or any of the ones barking constantly, to be honest. This place isn’t anybody’s favorite. It puts some on edge, makes them uncomfortable. They’ve all been abandoned, best he can tell, and that’s not really a fun place to be. Some go so stir-crazy that they’ll jump on anybody who comes by. Sometimes a visitor will seem to like one of them, and take them out and Max won’t see them again.

But not him.

He flings the toy up in the air and watches it bounce off the wall and roll across the floor.

When he next looks up, the humans have moved, are looking at another dog across the way. He flings the toy again.

They work their way down to the end of the hallway, then back up, stopping now and then to talk at each other about one dog or another. Max eventually gets bored of his toy and flops down in the middle of the floor.

“What about this one? He’s pretty well behaved, not too big, and I’ve almost never heard him bark.”

They’re at his door now, and Max lifts his head as the visitor squats down on the ground to look at him.

“This breed tends to need a lot of exercise, though. He likes to run, and I don’t think being cramped up is doing him much good, so you’d need some space.”

“I’ve got some space. I wouldn’t mind a dog that can keep up with me anyway. I could take him more places.”

Max regards her quietly. She’s not like most of the women he sees. Her hair is very short, for starters. That’s normally a tell for humans. Their smell always gives them away, but the women usually have long hair, and the men have the short hair. He doesn’t know why, it’s just something he’s noticed.

His eyes catch on one of her arms where it rests on her leg, and he tilts his head curiously. It’s different, doesn’t look like a regular arm, but doesn’t look like clothing either.

“Anything to be aware about him?”

“Well, he doesn’t tend to be very friendly. He’s not mean or anything, he even put up with a kid who pulled on his tail, but he doesn’t seem to particularly _like_ anybody.”

“Well, can’t hurt to meet him.” The woman stands up, and Max perks up even more as the other starts to open his door. He gets to his feet, his tail wagging hesitantly. Will he get to go out? Can he have a run?

The visitor woman walks in and crouches again in front of him. She reaches out a hand, fingers curled gently, and Max sniffs at it, and gives another wag of his tail.

“Does he know his name?”

“Yeah,” the other says. “It’s Max.”

Max perks up at the first word they’ve said that he recognizes. That’s _his_ word. That’s him.

“Hey, Max,” the woman in front of him says. He takes a little step toward her and sniffs a bit higher up on her arm.

“This is my biggest problem with some dogs,” she says next, and moves her other arm. “How do you feel about this, buddy?” Her voice is gentle, and it calms him a little bit, though he’s not sure he likes the arm she’s slowly moving toward him. He moves back a bit, and she stops for a moment, before trying again.

The fingers move, curling gently under the palm like her other hand had as she reaches it gently toward him. Max sniffs it cautiously. It’s not an arm, and it’s not clothing. It smells like metal and plastic. But it’s moving. He puts his ears down a bit and looks up at her face, not quite sure what to make of it.

“He responds well to food,” the other says, and Max perks up and looks at her. He knows that word too. That’s a good word. “Here.” She reaches in the pouch on her belt and grabs a handful of what Max knows are pretty good treats. She hands them to the woman in front of him, and Max wags his tail.

“Here you go, Max.” The woman gives him a couple out of her flesh hand, then pours a few more into the palm of the metal one and holds it out to him. Max eyes it for only a moment before he buries his nose against it and slurps up the morsels.

She does it again, and his tail is wagging in earnest now as he snaps those up too.

“Guess he’s okay with it. Are you trained, Max?” She stands up. “Sit.”

Another word Max knows. He puts his butt immediately on the ground, his eyes imploring for more treats.

“Good boy,” she hands him another, then leans down over him, putting her normal hand out above his head. Max waits quietly, and after a moment, she reaches the rest of the way and strokes his head. Max wags his tail again.

“Seems friendly enough to me. Was he found, or left?”

“He was relinquished. They left a good amount of information on him, though. Seems like they loved him. But we don’t really keep record of why our animals are relinquished, unless it’s related to behavioral problems.”

The woman straightens up and looks back at the other. “I wouldn’t mind reading what they left.”

Max’s tail stops wagging as her attention turns away from him.

“Sure, I can go pull it up for you.”

The woman gives him another quick pat on the head, eliciting another brief tail wag, then walks out of his kennel and the door closes again. Max watches her go, then sighs and lies back down. Shame. He kind of liked that one, and thought maybe she liked him too.

He decides maybe he’ll try for a nap. They usually don’t get around to letting him out for his run until the afternoon anyway, and he feels a little sad now.

He’s out cold when his door opens again and the sound makes him jump awake. He picks his head up and looks, his tail automatically thumping against the floor at the thought of finally getting his outside time.

The first thing he sees isn’t one of the people who usually takes him outside, though. It’s the woman with the short hair and the not-living arm. She gives him a smile and crouches down at the door. There’s a leash in her hand.

“Come here, Max.”

Max knows all of those words. He goes to her.

“What do you think about coming home with me?”

He doesn’t know what she said, but she seems happy about it, so he gives his tail a wag. Her smile grows.

“Sounds good to me.” She reaches toward him and buckles a collar around his neck, then stands up again.

“Alright, let’s go.”

Max follows beside her as she turns and starts walking. He glances up at her several times as they walk. He’s not quite sure what’s happening, but it’s new, and it feels exciting.

They stop in the big place with the desk. This is the last place he saw his people before they left him here, and he looks around as if they might still be waiting. But they’re not, and he looks up at the woman holding the other end of his leash again. She does some stereotypical human things involving papers, and Max sits and waits patiently.

Finally she leads him out of the building and toward a car, and his tail starts wagging harder. It feels like it’s been forever since he’s been in a car. Also, this definitely means that they’re going somewhere, and he wouldn’t be particularly sad if he never saw this place again.

She opens the back door for him, and he jumps in, then paces back and forth across the back seat until she gets in behind the wheel and rolls one of the windows down part way for him. He immediately sticks his head out.

“Alright, Max,” she says, and his ears perk up at the sound of his name. “Let’s go home.”

**Author's Note:**

> Idk, I haven't really gotten as far as plot on this one, so this might be it. If anybody's actually interested in it, though, I might make another push to actually make something out of it


End file.
